Questions and Answers
by Yva J
Summary: After getting yelled at in church, an eight year old girl meets Willy and Charlie, who teach her an unusual lesson about faith.


_Author's Notes: Before you read this one shot, I want to say several things about it as well as why I wrote it. I wrote this several days ago based on personal memories that I had from my childhood that were rekindled through a single event. It is, for that reason, a personal kind of story. It is not author based in that, I am not 8-years-old, but there are similarities to the child in the story and myself some 30 years ago. _

_If you are of a traditionalist religious background or are easily offended, I would suggest strongly that you overlook this story. It is my sincerest wish to not offend anyone or their belief system. Of course, I do not intend to put down anyone's faith here, but I do ponder the psychological effects of spiritual abuse, which some individuals use as a means of control. In this story, Willy is an atheist and this story does take a more universal / spiritual slant than most of my Wonka stories do. It talks specifically about preachers who yell and the effect it has on young children. It is for that reason that I have given it a solid T-rating._

_I would not be offended if you overlook reading this, and I certainly hope that you won't judge me as a writer for having written it. If you wish to review, I ask that given these notes, that you not enter me into debate about the contents of this story. My personal beliefs should not come under scrutiny here and I will not respond to antagonistic remarks. To me anything of a spiritual nature is between a person and the higher power to which they believe (or not believe, as is the case here). __Again, I am not attacking anyone or anything, I am merely pondering an issue._

_As far as which Wonkaverse this is, I always tend to write Wilder Wonka stories, but I guess if you stretch your imagination, it could easily be Depp or Book verse. _

_Enjoy._

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**Questions and Answers**

By: Yva J.

As eight-year-old Evelyn Henley ran towards the center of town, her eyes were filled with sadness. The tears that she had been concealing now fell at will down over her face, thus blurring her vision. She figured that her parents would get angry with her for leaving the church, but at this point, she really didn't care. All she wanted to do was get away from the man who was screaming at her about repentance and God.

It was strange for a child at that age to have such strong feelings of anger, specifically when she was not supposed to react upon them.

Lowering her head, she stared down at the ground, her arms wrapping around herself as the warm summer wind blew around her. As it ruffled her hair, she tried to pat it down with the flat palm of her hand.

Continuing to walk, the small girl reached the end of the street and stopped suddenly. Rising up before her was a large complex with smokestacks and tall buildings. The sign that hung over the front gate simply read the name 'Wonka'. Like everyone else, she had heard of the name. Instead of revering the person who lived there, she had incessantly been told that he was evil and promoted gluttony, one of the seven deadly sins.

Evelyn stared into the courtyard. It had been six years since the Golden Ticket contest had happened, and she only knew bits and pieces of it through the children at her school. The rumors had indicated that the owner of the factory had chosen a child to eventually take his place. She had been an infant when the reclusive chocolatier had opened his gates for the five children to pass beyond.

Today, she could do nothing but stare, the sadness of her morning washing over her, as confusion and heartache filled her. In front, now standing in front of this humongous place, she tried with everything that was inside of her to reconcile what specifically had happened.

She cast a glance back down the street in the direction of the church, her eyes now filled with unspeakable fright. She did not want to go back there at all. Not if she was forced to listen to a man tell her that she was a terrible person in the eyes of a God that she couldn't even see or hear.

If that was what God was, she thought sorrowfully, then I don't ever want to meet Him. She sat down on the ground and wrapped her arms around herself, her body leaning against the front of the gate, her head lowering as she felt the tears streaming down her face and meshing with the fabric of her dress.

"Hey kid, are you alright?" A voice suddenly emerged and she raised her head to see that a blonde headed teenager was approaching.

Fearfully she started to get to her feet in order to run away, but the boy approached quickly, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you," he offered her a weak smile, but continued to speak. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

Evelyn lowered her head. "I ran away," she whispered, her voice soft and trembling.

"Ran away?" The boy asked. "Ran away from what?"

"Church," she responded, her single word nothing more than a squeak.

"What happened that would make you run away from church?" He asked.

"The preacher was yelling at me," the child sniffed.

"I have heard tell of a church that did that, the one on Olson Street, it's not too far from here," he said and when she nodded, he continued. "I sometimes walk by that place and can hear the preacher clear out into the street. I can't imagine what it must be like inside."

"It's awful," the child whispered. "I hate it."

"I understand that," he said. "Well, I can't very leave you sitting alone out here. I should at least take you someplace safe so that you can call your parents and have them come pick you up. What's your name?"

"Evelyn," she whispered.

"It's nice to meet you, my name's Charlie," he said smiling, but offered his hand to her. "It's OK, I know I'm a stranger, but sometimes strangers can have the potential of becoming friends."

The little girl still hesitated and Charlie took a deep breath.

"I understand, you're not supposed to go with strangers, and on most occasions, I would say that you're right. But, I don't feel right leaving you here either." He thought for several moments and then looked at her. "Evelyn, how would it be if I go and make a phone call and you wait here? I have to let my friend know that I'm running late. Maybe he might have an idea of what we could do. Would that work?"

Evelyn nodded.

"OK, then just stay right here and don't run away again," he said and wordlessly made his way over to the phone booth that was situated not too far from the gates. He shuddered as he remembered what his mother had told him about that church. It was a dreadful place, the preacher yelling and screaming about hell and brimstone. The eighteen-year-old boy was seeing first hand what the impact that it was having on others. To look at what it had done to this little girl was simply horrific.

"Sometimes you can attract more bees with honey than with vinegar," he muttered under his breath as he reached the booth and grabbed the receiver.

Sticking a coin into the slot, he dialed a number and waited for the line to be picked up. As soon as it was, he spoke, relief etched in his words. "Willy, it's Charlie."

"Where are you?" Came the immediate question. "You were supposed to meet me here at eleven."

"I'm just outside the gate, but something's come up and I need your help," he began.

"Why my help?" Willy asked.

"Willy, there's a little girl sitting outside of the factory gates and she's terrified. I don't want to leave her all by herself."

"Why is she afraid?"

"I think it has something to do with that new church, the one Mom and I told you about with the screaming preacher. I mentioned it to you last week when we were working. I never thought very much about it, but yet talking to her just makes me feel a bit odd. I mean who would have thought that such a thing could affect a child? Anyway, she's pretty upset," he said.

"Do you want me to come out?" The chocolatier asked.

"If you don't mind, something tells me that she would relate to you better than she does with me," the teenager admitted. "I never had that sort of experience before."

"You think that I could relate to her because I don't believe in God?" Willy asked.

"Maybe," Charlie said. "So will you come?"

"Yes, I'll come, give me a few minutes," he said and hung up.

Charlie took a deep breath but returned the phone to the receiver and exited the phone booth. Once he had returned to the gate, he could see that Evelyn was still there her head lowered. "I'm back," he said gently. "My friend is on his way."

Evelyn raised her head and looked at him. "I should go back," she whispered.

"But you don't want to," he said.

She shook her head. "It's scary."

"What is, a church or this fixed notion that they have about God?"

"Both," she whispered. "I don't want God to be mad at me."

"Is that what they tell you?" He asked. "That God is this angry thing that sits on a throne and condemns you for being imperfect?"

She nodded.

"That's terrible, and children like you actually believe it," Charlie said as he sat down on the cold ground next to the little girl. "My grandfather always told me that a church is God's house. He said that it welcomes and accepts anyone who come through the door for who they are. It should not be in place to scream at or scare others."

"That's what I want to believe. I want to think that God loves me for who I am and that He wouldn't hate me for believing in something else." Evelyn said softly as footsteps of an approaching man could be heard and Charlie looked up and saw that his mentor had come out and had stopped close to where they were sitting.

"Hello," he spoke and looked at the small girl who sat next to Charlie.

Upon hearing him speak, she raised her head and looked into the blue eyes of the candy maker. Not knowing who he was or that he was even famous, the child took a deep breath and started to back away from him in the exact same manner as she had done with Charlie only moments before.

"Don't be afraid, little one, I'm a friend of Charlie's, my name is Willy Wonka," he said, a small smile gracing his lips.

"L-like the name on the sign up there?" She whispered, but pointed as the man with unmanageable curly hair seated himself next to her.

"Yes, exactly," he said. "You can call me Willy, though. Do you want to tell me your name?"

"Evelyn," she whispered.

"That's a beautiful name and you're such a charming little girl," he said smiling.

"I'm not beautiful," she mumbled.

"Of course you are," he said as he rested his hand on her shoulder. "When Charlie called, he said that you had a rather frightening experience this morning. Do you want to talk about it?"

The child lowered her head as shame washed over her. "I'm scared to."

"I see," he said as he ran his hand through his hair. "Well, from looking at you and given the time of day it is, I would guess that you had gone to church with your family. But, something happened there, something that scared you?"

She nodded. "He yelled at me." As she spoke, the tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I see and you don't really like that, do you?"

She shook her head.

"I understand, I didn't really like being yelled at either, specifically when I don't really know why I'm being yelled at in the first place. When I was little, I met people quite often who were rather mean. They would yell and claim that they had my best interest in mind, but they didn't seem to understand when people yell, it causes children to be sad and afraid."

Evelyn looked at him. "Yeah."

Willy looked at Charlie. "You asked me once why I don't believe in God, well, this little girl's experience parallels what drove me away from believing in anything of a religious nature. You see, I don't believe in God, but Evelyn that doesn't mean that you shouldn't. You just have to find for yourself what's right."

"I want to believe," she sniffed.

"Then believe, but remember, whatever they tell you cannot always be proven, and if people have to yell at you to make their point known, then how much truth or believability can one put into those words?" He asked. "You believe whatever feels right for you."

"They say they're right," she whispered. "They say that to question them goes against what God wants or means. But, how does anyone know what God really wants?"

"They don't, they assume that they know based on books and interpretations, but there is no real way to find out with absolute certainty. That's why it's called 'belief', my dear girl." He looked into the eyes of the child. "Do you know what I learned about this sort of thing?"

"What?"

"I learned that it is far better to live a good life, to do good deeds because they feel right, not because you fear getting punished if you don't do them. A good and honest deed is its own reward. How did you feel after you've shared your candy with another child or talked to someone who needed a friend?"

"Like you're doing?" She asked.

"Perhaps," he smiled at her. "But, how does it make you feel to lend a helping hand to someone else?"

"It feels like I'm not bad like they say," she whispered.

"What they said were cruel and hurtful things used to break you down and make you feel as though you have to beg and plead with another for understanding, acceptance, and love. Cruelty is after all, cruelty, and what they are doing to you is the same thing that happened to me. They are slowly pushing you away from believing in anything."

"Y-you don't believe in God?" She asked.

Willy Wonka shook his head. "No, I don't. I was brought up in a similar church and instead of embracing what they were preaching, I turned away from it as I got older. I gave up believing in everything."

"That must be sad," she whispered.

"The only God that I ever knew was angry, vengeful, and conditional, and that was not something I wanted to base my faith in," he said. "If you can find it inside of yourself to believe in something that is not the things that you have been told, then you have every right in the world to embrace that. But, Evelyn, the choice is always going to be yours."

As these words emerged, a man and woman approached. "Evelyn Henley, what in God's name are you doing here?" The woman called out, her voice shrill with indignation. She looked at Charlie, and then Willy, her judgmental eyes taking in the man, the boy, and the small girl who sat on the ground outside the gates of the factory.

The child cringed and Willy turned and looked up at the couple.

"Your daughter got scared at church," he said as he stood up and offered his hand in order to help the child get to get to her feet. She immediately accepted his offered hand and stood up. As soon as she was standing, the man spoke, his voice carrying the very same hostility as his wife's.

"How many times have we told you not to talk to strangers?"

Charlie's eyes rolled upon hearing those words and he turned and looked at the child's parents. "Well, that clears up a lot."

"What do you mean?" The man demanded.

"I mean; instead of embracing your child and saying 'thank goodness we found you' or 'we're so glad you're safe', you start scolding her. You don't even listen to her explanation or try to understand what she's been through."

"Been through, we only went to church and then she ran away," the woman said.

"What sort of church?" Willy asked. "Is it one where the preacher yells at children and tells them, 'repent or they will burn for all eternity. Get down on your knees and beg before God for forgiveness for being a sinner'?"

"You're a cynic," the man said. "A bad influence on our daughter. Probably of the devil himself."

"No, the only evil that exists here are the words that emerge in paranoia about something you cannot see or fully understand," Willy said with an adamant shake of his head. "I'm nothing of the sort, and neither is your daughter. She is a beautiful child, filled with kindness and love, and most certainly not someone who should be demonized. Do you want your child to end up like me; doubting, disbelieving and embittered? If you permit her to go to such a place, than that is what will come about. She will one day reject the image of God entirely if you keep trying to use this form of persuasion."

"We want her to be a good and faithful servant to God," the woman said.

"Have you asked her what she might want in a church or belief system?" Willy asked.

"What do you mean?" The man asked.

"Evelyn, tell them what you want," he said.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"Perhaps what you can do is think about it for a moment and then tell your parents what you would like to offer to this God whom you believe in," he said.

"I just want God to accept me for who I am," she whispered. "I don't want to be told that I should be afraid of Him anymore. I don't want to be told that I am terrible and unworthy of His love."

"Yet everything that you have wanted has been concealed by words of an angry preacher, as well as irritated parents," he said, but glanced towards the man and woman. "I have no reason to doubt your sincerity with regards to your daughter's upbringing, but I ask why it is this precious little girl had to run away from a place that is supposed to provide comfort and reassurance to her. If a place ceases to provide that sort of feeling, then I ponder what its purpose truly is." He turned back to face the little girl, but not before slipping a candy bar into her hand. "Always stay true to yourself, Evelyn, and maybe one day, contrary to what you've experienced today, you can retain some of what it is you have been denied."

Evelyn looked up at the man, her eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Willy," she said.

"Willy?" The woman mumbled upon hearing her daughter's words.

"Yes?" The chocolatier responded.

She looked towards the factory and then back at him. "You're…"

He nodded. "…Charlie found your daughter a little while ago and called me hoping that I could render some assistance."

"You came out just to help her?" The man asked.

"Yes, because there are moments when I am reminded of my own experiences through my interaction with others." As he spoke, he turned and looked at Charlie. "Come on, we've got work to do."

"Wait," the man said. "You said that Evelyn shouldn't end up like you. Why did you say that?"

"Evelyn still believes in God, I don't. I stopped believing when I experienced something very similar in my youth as she did today. I don't deny other people the right to believe, but I am atheist. I have long ago dismissed the idea that there is a sort of jealous God who defines the world. Some people grow and their faith increases, but like me, there are people who cannot forget the abuses and pain associated with it. We grow into adulthood feeling as though we have no choice but to dismiss the lessons of our youth. I don't want Evelyn to end up like me, but if you continue forcing her into that form of abuse, then I can predict that she will eventually lose her faith. All the things that you hoped for her would be wasted away because you refused to listen to her today. I bid you good day."

He started to walk away and the woman called out to him. "What should we do?"

Willy stopped and turned around. "I cannot tell you what to do, I can only tell you what happened to me. Charlie was astute in finding Evelyn and trying to help her, but the ones who should help her are you, her parents."

The man exchanged glances with his wife and then looked at Evelyn. "Maybe we could find another place to go to church, then," he mused, but looked down at the little girl. "Would you give us another chance? Maybe we can find one that we would all enjoy visiting."

Evelyn nodded. "Yeah." As these words emerged, she looked at her mother. "Is that OK, Mom?"

The woman nodded but looked at her husband. "You know Bob, I was not very fond of the screaming either," she said. "Maybe he's right and this would be a good idea."

The man cast a glance towards the factory and chuckled. "You know, one thing is clear, that preacher who said that Willy Wonka was a glutton was completely wrong. The man is slim and trim and I would personally give a crate of chocolate to know what his secret is."

The little girl smiled, but looked down at the candy bar that was now resting in her hand. She ran her fingers across the wrapper and looked up at the factory. "Thank You for sending Willy and Charlie to see me."

The family moved wordlessly away from the factory.

The End…


End file.
